There are horses
by Aoitori
Summary: A sweet little episode tag to Order 23 Job. Eliot and Parker. No pairings, sorry. Read, review, and enjoy!


Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage, or any of the characters, places, or events contained therein. Which, frankly, is a very good thing.

Premise: This is just a simple episode tag for The Order 23 Job (wow, what an amazing episode!). I was busy working and it got stuck in my head and wouldn't let me work till I got it out in type. So yes, please enjoy! Obvious spoiler warning for the episode in question does apply. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.

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_There are horses_

Strange that in the end it was Parker who got him to open up about his mysterious behavior during their hospital caper. Sophie had come right out and asked him, Nate had given him openings, and Hardison had pestered him relentlessly and nearly suffered bodily harm for his efforts.

Parker, ever oblivious to the mood of her teammates, simply asked for another sparring lesson.

Eliot figured she couldn't have known on anything more than the most instinctual level, but at the moment the easy exertion of a few rounds on the mat was exactly what he needed to get his mind off the hollow look in that boy's eyes.

On the walk over to the gym they decided on a direction for the lesson. Parker wasn't satisfied with her guard and Eliot wanted her to get more practice in on her footwork so they agreed that "step 1" would be a good place to start.

Parker was, for the most part, a silent sparring partner. She focused all her attention on the mechanics of the fight, learning to be aware of all aspects of her stance and her opponent's, and testing out the techniques that Eliot had taught her in every possible situation. She was a rather ideal student, as far as Eliot was concerned.

After at least a good ten minutes of sparring and instruction they were still dancing around exchanging and blocking blows when Parker came out with an unprecedented inquiry. As one might expect from Parker, there was no awkward emotional lead-up, she fielded the question as easily as she might have asked if her left jab was aimed in the right spot.

"Hardison said you were talking to a kid in the hospital?" the statement was definitely a question.

Eliot was taken slightly aback and actually let her left jab (which was, indeed, on target) slide past his guard. Her glove dealt a solid hit to one of the few bruises he had sustained from the "punk" earlier that day and he stepped back, surprised. In an instant she was inside his guard, executing a perfect takedown and this time managing to transition smoothly into a well-chosen arm-bar. Eliot offered minimal resistance on the way down, judging her strategy instead of attempting to thwart it. But that didn't make his tap-out any less sincere when she twisted his elbow to its maximum extension.

She released him and bounced back into a crouch, wearing a hugely self-satisfied grin. "It worked!" she said brightly, a bit of surprise in her voice.

"It did that." Said Eliot, picking himself up with a half-smile and rubbing his sore temple. "Beautiful transition," he commended, "did you feel the opening there, when I was off-balance but not down?"

She nodded vigorously and stood, "I rotated around you, increasing your downward momentum while improving my leverage on your arm."

"Exactly." He nodded and put a hand up toward her.

She clasped the hand and pulled him to his feet and then cocked her head as she looked at his glove. There were a few small streaks of blood on the white surface.

"Oh!" her face instantly screwed into an amusing look of regret. She craned her neck around to look at the bruise on the side of Eliot's head and grimaced, "Sorry," her enthusiasm visibly deflating.

"Hm?" Eliot looked at the glove and then put a few fingers to his temple. Blood was welling sluggishly from a small cut. "Huh," was all he said when he saw it on his fingers. He motioned toward the bench where his gym bag was resting and walked over to sit down. Always prepared, he was already pulling out a mirror, alcohol swab, and some little butterfly bandages as Parker came to sit down beside him. He wordlessly handed her the mirror, which she held at and expertly chosen angle as he began cleaning and patching the cut.

"So it was a kid, huh?" she asked, once again with no lead-in.

"Yep," he answered, not irritated but not about to go any further unprompted.

"How bad?" she asked.

That stilled him for a moment. "Pretty bad," he conceded. "Broken arm, old and new bruises." He paused. "…and no options."

Parker looked down with a pained frown, lips pursed. Clearly unwanted memories were playing through her mind. Elliot paused in his work, looking down as well. Both of them knew that some things could never be shared in words.

Finally parker looked up and asked, "So did you get him out?" The question was tentative, almost as if she was afraid of the answer.

"Yeah," he said, looking up at her with a sad smile. "There'll be an investigation and proceedings and all that," he said, and she nodded knowingly, "but for now he's on his way to someplace safe."

Parker cocked her head. "Where did you send him?" She asked curiously.

This time Eliot's smile was in earnest. "A little place I set up a while ago, couple states away."

Parker brought the mirror up again even as she frowned skeptically. "What kind of place?" She asked.

"You wouldn't like it…," he said with a chuckle as he smoothed the butterfly bandage down and tossed the supplies back in the duffle.

"There are horses."


End file.
